


The Facts of Life

by dendriticgold



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:22:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendriticgold/pseuds/dendriticgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carson giving 'the talk' to Alfred and Jimmy reminds Thomas of his own experience years before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Facts of Life

'Mr Carson.' Thomas said by way of both greeting and query as he entered Carson's office, remaining by the door in anticipation of being tasked with heading up to the Drawing Room to deliver the slightly overdue afternoon tea. 'You sent for me?'

'I did Mr Barrow.' Said Carson, his voice strangely hoarse and his eyes cast down at the desk in front of him; he seemed somehow unable to look at Thomas even as he rose to his feet to greet him.

He motioned Thomas over with an uncharacteristically quick and inelegant swipe at the air with his hand.

Carson looked, for want of a better word, terrified.

For a few moments Thomas stood rooted to the spot in surprise at the realisation.

'Mr Barrow!' Said Carson sharply, repeating the motion.

'Is everything alright, Mr Carson?' Said Thomas, trying desperately to keep a small smile of amusement off his face as he approached the desk.

When Carson failed to indicate for him to stop in front of it, Thomas continued around the desk and came to stand beside him. At close range, there was no mistaking the fear and discomfort in the man's countenance.

'James and Alfred will be joining us presently.' Carson said, still finding the desk (and the non-existent distractions on it) easier on the eye than Thomas.

'Why, what have they done?' Thomas demanded, a little more concerned and a  _lot_ more abruptly than he had intended to.

To Carson's mind, far too abruptly.

'Why…what  _have_  they done?' Carson said, looking up at Thomas warily, momentarily forgetting whatever had gotten him quite so agitated, suddenly sharp as a knife at the notion that James and Alfred might have actually 'done something' to be reproached for that had somehow escaped his notice.

'No…nothing.' Thomas stuttered quickly, thrown by the sudden change in Carson's demeanor. 'Why will they be joining us, Mr Carson?' He queried carefully, eager to move the conversation along.

Carson sighed and looked down at the desk again.

It was a defeated sigh, and a very exaggerated one at that.

Thomas fought valiantly against the smile that once again threatened to quirk up the corners of his lips. Carson's histrionics never failed to entertain; even more so now that he was frequently party to the 'back room' discussions that had previously only been the remit of Mr Carson, Mrs Hughes and Mrs Patmore in his new capacity as Under Butler. Thomas had no idea Carson was quite such a dramatist until he had walked in on the man quite literally mourning over a 'ruined' dinner, clutching at the silver candlestick with a tiny smudge on it's base that had (in Carson's mind alone) caused the 'disaster'.

'Mrs Hughes…' Carson began, sniffing determinedly to fortify himself. '…believes that in light of the Valentine's day…' Carson groped for an appropriate word. '…silliness…'

Thomas shared Carson's grimace at the memory.

He had never before seen quite so many tears and quite so many sheepish looks before half past six in the morning, and hoped to never have the experience repeated.

'…that Mrs Hughes has suggested…' Carson continued, highly reluctantly, keeping Thomas teetering on tenterhooks for an inordinately long amount of time. '…that the time has come to…have a talk with James and Alfred about…that.'

Thomas frowned, trying and failing to puzzle out what precisely in that scenario would have Carson looking quite so trepidatious at the imminent arrival of Jimmy and Alfred.

'Well I think they both learned their lesson, Mr Carson.' Said Thomas slowly. And he  _did_  truly think that. Whatever had possessed the two of them to pen highly dubious devotions, complete with false promises (and in most cases false signatures), it was clear that the state their prank had left the girls in had made a lasting impression on the two men. Jimmy in particular had very nearly cried himself at the sight of Ivy's tears in the middle of the servant's hall. 'Definitely learned their lesson.' Thomas said, offering a half smile to attempt to sooth Carson's discomfort.

Carson shook his head distractedly. 'It's not that  _particularly_  Mr Barrow.' He said. 'It's just that…Mrs Hughes…' Carson said the name in much the same tone as he would have enunciated 'His Lordship'. '…feels that the time has come…to have a talk…with the young men…about the young women.'

'Talk…?' Thomas repeated, furrowing his brow, still lost. 'Oh!' He suddenly exclaimed, eyes widening. ' _The_ talk.'

'Yes, Mr Barrow.' Carson said tersely, tapping a hand on the wood of the desk in front of him in an effort to distract himself from the present conversation.

Awkward silence, broken only by the irritating sound of the pads of Carson's fingers tapping at the desk, lingered for quite some time as Thomas waited for Carson to add something else by way of explanation.

He didn't.

'Then why am  _I_  here, Mr Carson?' Said Thomas, conveying with a slightly raised eyebrow that the question was intended to be taken in more ways than one.

'Because, Mr Barrow, you are a senior member of this household staff and that carries with it certain…sometimes unsavory…responsibilities.' Carson responded instantly, briefly holding Thomas's gaze with eyes that dared him to disagree.

'Oh I see, so nothing to do with you pissing yourself over the notion of having to address the birds and the bees then?' Thomas so dearly wanted to reply. But his sense of self-preservation was stronger than the urge to call Carson out, so he held his tongue.

As he waited, silently, watching Carson watching the open doorway, Thomas eventually came to the conclusion that even though it was frustrating to be compelled to be involved in something so far outside of his remit, it was gratifying to have Carson, of all people, genuinely looking to  _him_  for support.

Also the next couple of minutes were likely to be highly entertaining.

'After you…' Jimmy's voice sounded from the corridor amid the noise of shuffling footsteps.

'Why do I have to go in first?' Alfred responded in a hoarse whisper.

'Because it's probably  _you're_  fault we have to go in at all…'

'Do be sure to close the door behind you on your way in.' Thomas called out to let them know that their discussion was not quite as secret as they had hoped; also because the sooner they began, the sooner he could leave.

With the two footmen in place opposite the desk, Carson began to speak.

Within moments it became apparent to Thomas that he himself, in his role as supporter, was not actually obliged to contribute anything verbally to the discussion, allowing him to stand back and fully enjoy the looks of horror on both Jimmy and Alfred's faces as Carson's purpose in having called them there became clear.

'…now, it may come to pass…well, occur…that you find yourselves…noticing…the…females…' Carson tripped over almost every word, turning as beetroot red as Alfred (Jimmy's rising blush a more peach pink in tone) as he continued on. '…this may be accompanied by…urges…to…promote certain contact…urges which  _must_  be reined in, you understand…' Thomas had never seen Carson so uncomfortable. '…as regards to the ladies, and also as regards to how you handle…' Carson paused, evidently wishing he had chosen a different word. '…yourselves.'

Thomas was absolutely  _desperate_  to laugh.

'…now it is natural that young men might feel…excited…' Thomas very nearly  _did_  laugh. '…in the presence of the ladies…but you are expected to maintain…'

Thomas allowed himself to mentally drift away from the discussion, letting the words themselves fade into the background as he enjoyed the twists and twitches of the faces of the three men before him as Carson's speech veered into ever more disturbing territory.

There was a perceptible shift in the atmosphere in the room as Carson finally completed his planned instruction in matters of the physical aspects of male female relationships (not that he ever actually directly addressed the issue  _anywhere_ within his excruciatingly awkward and long oration on the subject) and moved onto more comfortable territory.

Thomas listened, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face, as Carson continued.

'…you are to understand that dalliances between members of staff are not to be tolerated.' Carson said firmly, clearly happy to be back on the subject of house rules, i.e. something far more his area of expertise. 'But as the upstanding example of Mr and Mrs Bates will attest, serious attachments can sometimes be accommodated, if affections are proved to be sincere and it will not impact on the efficiently of the running of the household…'

Thomas snorted internally at Carson having been forced to edit his usual speech for the sake of the Bates's.

The notion reminded him, with a sudden, uncomfortable, jolt that he  _had_ in fact heard this speech before.

'Mr Carson will be after us.' William huffed, hopping from foot to foot, arms crossed over his waistcoat against the winter chill, as he stood half-in, half-out of the wood-shed, watching Thomas smoke his third cigarette of the day.

'Hush your bloody fidgeting.' Thomas ordered, taking another unhurried breath of smoke, staring lazily up at the roof of the shed. 'We're not due nowhere for twenty minutes.'

'Yes, but there's things we could be  _doing_  Thomas!' William said, pleading with his eyes and movements for Thomas to relent and accompany him back to the house; the notion of going back on his own and just leaving Thomas there not having crossed his mind. 'There's the glasses in the parlor, the room for Mr Harrow, the mending…'

'The chasing Daisy round the kitchen table…' Thomas cut in, exhaling slowly.

'I don't…!' William began indignantly; he halted immediately upon a very pointed sideways look from Thomas. 'Well, perhaps.' He said, his cheeks swelling as his agitated expression gave way to a bashful smile, his eyes positively shining.

Thomas watched him closely before breaking out into a low chuckle, shaking his head at William's dopey expression.

'Oh dear…' He drawled, bringing the cigarette to his lips again. 'Our poor Daisy.'

William glanced out of the wood-shed, suddenly as fearful of general eavesdroppers as he was of Mr Carson suddenly emerging from the shadows.

'Nothing will come of it…' He whispered, stepping into the shed to ensure privacy before adding. '…but I don't half wish it would sometimes.'

'What do you wish would happen?' Said Thomas softly, watching the spark in William's eyes with amusement.

'That she would marry me.' Said William brightly, disappointing Thomas with the sheer predictability of his response.

'Been thinking about the wedding night at all, have you?' Said Thomas, unable to help himself.

'Oh…' In the shade of the shed, Thomas could sense, rather than see, William's face burning. '…well…I suppose…'

Thomas watched the last of his cigarette burning down, pensively licking his lips.

'You ever had any of that before?' Thomas said at length, ensuring his expression left William with no doubt as to what he was speaking about.

'Of course not!'

Thomas was not in the least bit surprised by the vigor of William's response.

But something about the post smoking head rush, the cool oaky scent of the wood, the shade of the slant of the mid-morning sun, and the sense of invincibility that had accompanied Thomas ever since he had taken up post in the world of Downton, finding himself in possession of the hitherto unknown joys of 'friends', a purpose, and a reason to take pride in himself and his work, all combined to compel Thomas to press the matter further.

Besides, William was a pleasant sort of chap.

And nothing ventured, nothing gained.

'Aren't you curious?' Said Thomas nonchalantly, flicking the cigarette away, unflinchingly meeting William's gaze.

William was silent for a moment.

'Can't be having none of that before marriage.' He eventually said, but the words lacked conviction.

And there was just enough comprehension, curiosity and (most importantly) lack of horror in William's expression to encourage Thomas to continue.

'With women, yes.' Thomas agreed, leaning lazily against the wall in an effort to disguise the sudden rush of emotions beneath his calculatedly indifferent facade. 'But what if a good friend could help you…with that?' Thomas said, the nerves he was trying desperately conceal breaking through in the form of the slight pause in his speech.

After what seemed like an eternity, William responded.

'Like how?'

Thomas fought to convert his inner delight and celebration into an expression of sullen and unaffected confidence on his face; for the most part succeeding.

'Come over here.' He said softly, detaching himself from the wall and indicating for William to join him by the corner of the shed.

Thomas found the beats of his heart briefly settling into rhythm with Williams's steps as he drew closer.

'Well?' William said, as Thomas moved to stand in front of him, backing him against the wall.

He looked fearful, but not nearly as fearful as  _Thomas_  was suddenly feeling as he slowly crept the fingers of his right hand through the space between them.

The first touch was always the trickiest.

William hunched up as Thomas's hand connected with the front of his trousers, causing Thomas to very nearly withdraw it and make ready to run, but somehow both William and Thomas's nerve held.

They stayed that way for a moment, each suddenly very aware of the other man's breathing as Thomas's fingers remained motionless, but in contact, with the crease to the left of William's trouser fastening.

Then, hesitantly but firmly, Thomas slid his hand forwards to bring his palm flush against William's front.

He paused again, this time to savor his feeling of triumph as William gave a soft gasp of surprise at the sensation; not that Thomas had ever entertained the notion that anyone could resist him and his advances (a notion backed up by several childhood 'acquaintances' back home), but the need to be cautious given the specifics of his situation nevertheless lingered in the back of his mind.

But here, however, it appeared he had no reason to worry.

William remained, mouth open, back to the wall, perfectly still as Thomas began to stroke him.

'How's that?' Said Thomas, voice low and soft, leaning in to speak directly into William's ear, maintaining a small space between their bodies despite every urge to the contrary that begged him to push his luck.

William managed a shallow grunt in response, his eyes screwed shut tightly even as his mouth continued to gape, his jaw twitching each time Thomas's hand made it's torturous journey from base to tip over the fabric of his trousers. He didn't make any move to actively participate, something Thomas reluctantly noted, but the evidence of his enthusiasm was hard to mistake.

'Mmmm…it  _is_  good.' Thomas said for him, bringing his lips perilously close to William's ear to add. 'And just think how much better it would be to have it inside…'

The catch in William's breathing told him he spoke the truth and, much much more importantly, that at some point William  _might_  be interested in that particular 'truth'.

But that, Thomas mused, was most definitely for another time. He always believed in leaving people with a reason to return to him.

And on that particular note…

'And there's this too.' Thomas whispered, moving his lips the short distance from the shell of William's ear to his open mouth, catching William's lips in a brief but wet kiss as they began to close in surprise.

Then he stepped back.

'Best get back to work, eh? Carson will be so worried.' Said Thomas with a grin.

'Right…' Said William, still panting lightly, his breaths hanging in the cold air as he followed Thomas out of the shed.

Just as they neared the back door, Thomas hazarded another triumphant glance at him.

His good mood increased upon finding William still staring at him; although there was something about the look in William's eyes that Thomas couldn't quite place. And he didn't like that much.

He didn't like it when people thought things he couldn't read.

But still, his feeling of smug elation and the prospect of possibly having a genuine 'diversion' to brighten his days at the Abbey stayed with him as he got back to the day's tasks.

It lingered on through his evening smoke-break, despite William electing to stay behind in the servant's hall, and clung on grimly despite William choosing to sit opposite rather than next to him the next morning at breakfast, and just about survived a second solo smoking break shortly after.

But as Thomas entered the kitchen later that morning, it took just one look at the blush on William's cheeks as he watched Daisy pottering about the kitchen to kill any hope entirely.

Knowing that William's thoughts regarding Daisy were likely tending towards the impure (and that it was  _his_ doing) was small comfort.

And Thomas found he couldn't quite muster the energy to tease William about it.

He did however find lots of other things to tease him about, to torment him with, to reproach him for over the following weeks; finding his circle of friends in the house rapidly diminishing day by day as he did so, but not particularly caring.

Thomas wasn't sure if it pleased him or angered him that William never bit back.

Then came 'the talk'.

He had stood, side by side with William, watching Carson grappling his way through an ill thought-out speech regarding the trouble a young man and a young woman could get into were they to give in to 'carnal desires', willing it to be over.

Thomas found the exercise more amusing than anything else, particularly the notion that a man who had spent his entire adult life married to a house was somehow qualified to instruct him in the correct way to go about suppressing matters relating to the sins of the flesh. And he took a dark sense of satisfaction in noting William getting particularly hot under the collar as Carson broached the notion of transgressions outside of marriage.

'…you are to understand that dalliances between members of staff are not to be tolerated.' Carson said firmly, his relief at having almost reached the end of the uncomfortable meeting palpable. 'And should that occur both yourself and the lady will be compelled to leave service.' He concluded firmly.

William chewed at his lower lip while Thomas stood perfectly composed, sensing the end was nigh.

'Do either of you have any questions?' Carson reluctantly added.

'Yes, Mr Carson, if I may.'

Thomas blinked at William's surprisingly steady voice.

'I heard talk once of men who care more for the company of men…'

Thomas's heart leapt into his throat. He hadn't thought to instruct William to keep their liaison to himself; the moment had been so brief and remained unrepeated, not to mention he would have thought even a relatively innocent soul like William would have to good sense to know that one shouldn't actually discuss one's love life with one's boss.

Particularly if that boss happened to be Carson.

'Shit. Why didn't he just come to  _me_  if he wanted to talk about it!' Thomas thought furiously in his head. Well, that and 'What the hell can I say to cause a distraction?'

But Carson got there first. 'Sadly such…foulness…does indeed exist. But the activities of such degenerates should be no concern of yours.' He said firmly.

Thomas said nothing.

'Thank you, Mr Carson.' Said William.

Thomas felt his own face growing hot, hating the notion that Mr Carson's response might have extinguished any potential 'urges' William may still have been harbouring; despite knowing, if he was honest with himself, that William clearly felt nothing of the sort.

Then he looked at William's face.

There was no confusion there, mostly blankness; but with a hint of self-satisfaction that Thomas had read so many times in his own mirror that he could not fail to recognise it, even in it's subtlest form, in others.

Thomas forced eye contact the moment Carson's back was turned. 'You did that on purpose?' He silently demanded, finding his breathing and pulse increasing rapidly beyond his control as he experienced a strange mix of anger and frantic disorientation.

Triumph, then pity, looked back at him.

The two things Thomas could never tolerate to see in the eyes of others as regards to himself.

He would never admit it, not even to himself, but in a matter of seconds William had turned the tables on weeks of bullying and burned him in every sense of the word.

And no matter how much Thomas redoubled his efforts to hound the man over the following years, no matter what he said or did, no matter how many times William cried (and Thomas made sure he cried), he was never quite able to make up the ground he lost that day in Carson's office.

'Do either of you have any questions?' Carson's question jerked Thomas out of the memory and back to the present moment.

Thomas blinked, looking between the silent figures of Alfred and Jimmy, clearly neither of whom wished to prolong the agony of the moment with even the most token of queries.

'Well then…' Said Carson, clearly relieved. '…I think we will call that a day and…'

'Is there nothing…' The words blurted out of Thomas's mouth before he had the chance to think them through. He suddenly found himself the uncomfortable recipient of three curious and unwelcome stares. '…else?' Thomas finished lamely, forcing himself to look to Carson, allowing his carefully honed pride to sink low enough to permit him to do so with a fair approximation of hope in his eyes.

A shadow of recognition flitted across Carson's gaze at following Thomas's train of thought as regards to how the events of the recent and long past might be brought to bear on the current moment.

But that was it.

Carson shook his head, a movement so small as to be almost imperceptible to Alfred and Jimmy.

'No. No I don't think there is anything more to add, Mr Barrow.' He said levelly, an apologetic hint of pity in his eyes.

There was no quivering of the cheek, no twitching of the jaw, no furrowing of the brows, no lump in the throat, but Thomas knew, with absolute certainty, that he was going to cry.

Consequently, he suddenly found it imperative to exit the room as quickly as possible.

So he did, barging past Alfred and Jimmy with uncharacteristic clumsiness as he did so.


End file.
